


The Common People

by clumsykitty



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, OS, Other, POV, SteveTony, Stony - Freeform, Superhusbands, Superhusbands (Marvel), Superhusbands Aluminum Anniversary Anthology, Thanks everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsykitty/pseuds/clumsykitty
Summary: The relationship between Steve Rogers (Captain America) and Tony Stark (Ironman) from the eyes of common people, a lesson about the true heroes, the reasons to live and how two extraordinarie people can be the inspiration of different generations.





	The Common People

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Superhusbands Aluminum Anniversary Anthology (celebrating ten years since the release of The Confession), I was very glad to be able to participate in the SA3 anthology, it was a pleasure write this story.
> 
> I want to say thank you! to Georgie (cptxrogers) for her help and support. Thank you so much!   
> And thank you to all the people who believe in me. This is for you.

**“The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us, but those who win battles we know nothing about.”**

_Jonathan Harnisch, The Brutal Truth._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  


**THE COMMON PEOPLE** **  
**

* * *

 

 

**FIRST PART**

**_“You gave me a home”_ **

**  
**

 

 

_First Interview: Coffee Shop Owner_

 

[ _coughing, grunting and breathing_ ]

 

“It´s recording now?... Well… okay… I guess I can start from the old days. I mean, my grandfather’s tales. He was a soldier in WWII and he met Captain America back then. It’s common knowledge that a lot of people worked and spoke with him, the Cap, but my grandfather came back thanks to that hero. And my earliest childhood memories were the tales about Captain America, his missions to fight the bad guys. Hydra, I think that was their name. I grow up hearing these stories and with the images of a man with an amazing shield being the hope and the symbol of a war against cruelty. So many stories were told about him that I really thought to myself that this man must be a Hercules or something!

My grandfather opened the coffee shop after the war ended and my father continued running it when he died. So, I suppose I am a coffee man because of this legacy… and I like it, you know? I made a good life selling mugs and all that, got married, had children, and lived there in Brooklyn very happily. One day, I remember it very well, a strong man appeared in front of my shop while I was cleaning the last table before closing. He looked around just at the time when I raised my head because his shadow was unusual… he was right there… Captain America, just the same as my grandfather’s photos, hanging on the wall of the shop in their wooden frames. Captain America! I dropped my cloth… I don’t know… everything stopped like it does in the movies, Cap was looking for something and I was a few meters away from him! The idol of my father’s father was alive in my time!

Then, I noticed his eyes… they were so sad, so lost, filled with a misery… maybe rejection. And his body was tense, his hands were trembling. I couldn't just stand there like a complete idiot, so I run towards him, opening the shop door so hard I almost smashed the glass, drying my hands on the way. ‘Are you lost?’ I asked very carefully, wanting to smack myself for being such an idiot. You see Captain America in front of your place, you don’t ask stupid questions! But I did, and for the long seconds that he took to answer me, I felt like the biggest moron on Earth. Cap turned on his heels to look at me, and gave me this tiny sad smile. ‘Brooklyn has changed… Everything changed,’ he whispered.”

 

[ _silence_ ]

 

“You know? Before now I didn’t understand his words, but I realize that he felt so lonely. A man run out of his time.”

 

 

 

 

 

_Second Interview: The Secretary_

 

“I was born in a traditional Japanese family, and they had this convention of your destiny being linked to your date of birth. I was born on a bad luck day, and the monks told my mother that I would be better off in heaven than living with my family. But my father didn’t want to follow that order. Instead, he put me in an orphanage, but every month he sent enough money for the sisters to keep me there. I was a bad luck child. I will never ever have a happy life.

Maybe it was for the best, I don’t know. I grew up and become a weak young woman. A burden for the orphanage if I didn´t contribute because I was too old for the house, even with the money from my father. I decided to work and asked for permission. The sisters said yes and I was allowed for the first time in my life to go out… to the city… New York City, I mean. But I always had these thoughts about being a bad luck child, that nothing good was there for me in this amazing world. When I got the job as a part-time secretary in Stark Industries, it was the most amazing feeling of my younger life. A secretary! Or at least that was the job description. Following my fate, I worked more as an office girl, a messenger, a delivery girl walking up and down all day. I have no hard feelings… I was happy because my pay allowed me to rent an apartment and live outside the orphanage. I was happy… being invisible to my fellow workers in the Stark Tower.

Everybody ignored me or pretended that I didn´t exist, but no one ever hurt me or threatened me if you’re wondering about that. No, no. To be a ghost was an advantage in Stark Industries. I could go straight to the CEO’s office or deep down to the basement. I saw Virginia Potts walking on her beautiful and very expensive high heels with a gorgeous tight suit and her beautiful hair, giving orders and taking the lead instead of Mr. Stark, a man that I couldn’t see. She was an inspiration for me and I worked harder than ever before to achieve my simple tasks as a secretary-delivery girl.

The sisters of the orphanage heard about my job one day and scolded me when they called me. ‘You can’t work for that man!’ ‘He is a murderer!’ ‘Quit now!’ I refused, and they wrote a letter to my father who visited me trying to change my mind, but I said no over and over again. My father was hard on me because at that time Mr. Stark was missing. The news confirmed it and everybody was speaking of my boss as a lost, dead man. The future of Stark Industries hung on in the almost impossible chance of Mr. Stark being alive and kicking somewhere in Vietnam.

Ms. Potts was busy making calls and arranging everything for the company… I was always in her office two or three times a day… and I was there, like a ghost, a bad luck child carrying a tray of tea when Mr. Stark appeared one day with that thing on his chest! He was talking with Mrs. Potts as if nothing had happened in Vietnam. I saw it, the Arc Reactor. Mr. Stark depends on his invention to live and when I hid in a corner to listen in and I saw it… a little part of me thought, ‘This man is as unfortunate as me. He must keep that thing in his chest if he wants to live, is a slave of it.’ Neither of them noticed my exit when they started to argue, luckily for me. Back then, I feared Mr. Stark and his Arc Reactor.”

 

 

 

 

_Third Interview: The Sex Worker._

 

[ _humming_ ]

 

“Oh… hmm?... Excuse me, I was retouching my makeup… I’m ready now.

Let’s see…”

 

[ _whistling_ ]

 

“I have a lot of clients, if you know what I mean, precious. So I’m always on the street trying to catch the money or inside a big limousine sucking a Wall Street Suit Man before lunch. New York is a surprise but in a safe way, darling. We are special. I’ll explain.”

 

[ _chewing on gum_ ]

 

“Well, yeah, you get used to seeing everything on the streets and in the sky, and so… I remember well when all this stuff about the Avengers started and everybody was like ‘You see that?’ At some point you couldn’t even get terrified when you saw a jellybean monster crawling along Fifth Avenue at dinner because this is New York. Avengers’ New York. Now, honey, I want to tell you about one day when I finished with a client and I was putting myself together for the next round when a monster crashed down… what do you think? Three or four meters away from me? And Mr. America and Mr. Metal appeared like two angels from Heaven ready to fight this octopus monster or whatever. The funny thing was that they were arguing with each other while one was throwing his shield and the other was shooting his canon. You might be thinking, ‘And you stood there doing nothing?’ Well, as I said before, this is New York. Of course I ran to cover from the battle, but I also peeked out to see the two Avengers.

The monster went ‘kaboom’ and the day was saved again. Then Mr. America yelled something and Mr. Metal yelled back, but fortunately for me, neither of them walked away. They only stood and stared eye to eye for like a whole eternity until Mr. Metal laughed and waved his metallic hand, saying that Mr. America was a tough guy but an idiot at heart. And Mr. America smiled, but to me, I mean… someone like me, blowing guys all day and so on, can distinguish when a smile is fake or when it’s a loving one, and I’m pretty sure that Mr. America smiled lovingly at Mr. Metal. And for me, that was one of my best moments of my life because… well, you see me, a trans girl on the street? This scenario is out of my league, for real… Anyway… Can I have your number?”

 

 

 

_Fourth Interview: The Antique Seller._

 

[ _coughing a little_ ]

 

“Am… um… I just told the story and all, right? You want to hear it again? ... am… okay…”

 

[ _takes a deep breath_ ]

 

“I came into my antique shop thanks to my wife. She passed away long time ago when the cancer won the battle… she was my angel… am, I loved her very much so I quit my job at the office and continued with the antique shop because she would have liked it. My wife was a fan of those old objects with stories behind them, especially from the olden days. She bought many things like lamps, frames, furniture from the 30’s and 40’s… but nowadays these kinds of objects are forgotten… am, um… I understand… the maintenance? The look? The sizes and shapes?... They don’t fit with the new fashions. Don’t misunderstand me, I put the whole lot in an unused room and put other stuff on display to have the profits to live.

And then, one day… I think was Wednesday… or Thursday?... anyway… It was a usual morning for me, when a kid that I hired ran behind the counter, all shaking, and whispered ‘Mr. Stark is here!’ ‘Mr. Stark is here!’… am… um… I didn't know him then. I am sorry.  I made a stupid face full of confusion, but fortunately my kid explained the story of Mr. Stark so I could walk out and give him my greetings and shake his hand… He was already looking in the shop and he asked me if I had something 100% real from the 40’s. I laughed like a maniac, I confess… because it was a strange coincidence. ‘Come with me, Mr. Stark,’ I said before going into the room and showing him my wife’s private collection.

‘I’ll take the lot,’ Mr. Stark declared, and turned to me. ‘Could you make sure that the moving men put everything where it belongs? I’ll pay extra for it.’… hehehehehe… am… I almost fainted because that meant a lot of money. My legs held on long enough for me to nod and make out the bill. I was sweating, but I didn’t know why… I know that billionaires are eccentric and search for the most rare or unique things to spend their money on, so I didn’t ask about the goal of this sale. And besides, the kid assured me that Mr. Stark was a man who took care of his stuff. By the way, Mr. Stark was happy, very happy. Like a child in a brand-new toy shop. He looked at the furniture, the frames, the curtains… the whole collection with a curious excitement.

The final place for my wife’s collection?... oh boy… am… It was in the Avengers Tower. Mr. Stark paid for all the items, he wanted to recreate a truly 40’s floor… maybe it was a bit of whimsy or a fantasy… but Mr. Stark was so pleased with my final job that he gave me his card and promised to help me with my shop. There was no need. My wife’s collection was in a better place and I was sure that someone would be happy with it. That was the best pay I could hope for.”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**SECOND PART**

**_“Because of you the world changed. I changed”_ **

  
 

 

 

 

_Fifth Interview: The Florist._

 

“I met Steve Rogers long time ago, he was one of my best customers, always buying a bouquet, asking me for a card to write a poem or something sweet for his lover. I am an imaginative person, my mother always told me that I’d get in trouble if I continued making up stories in my head from what I saw in other people, but I can’t help it. That’s why I started to sell flowers, first in my own car travelling around the city and later, when I had enough money, I opened this shop. I love flowers because they are beautiful any they tell stories, the same stories that have been in my head for as long as I can remember. People buy flowers to say something and I like to imagine what are they saying with them: a forgiveness, a goodbye, a confession…

So, I was greatly fond of the choices of Steve Rogers. He was a gentleman, you know. My inner little girl always jumped when the bell rang and he walked inside with a smile and asked me if I had a special bouquet of the week. The first few times, he bought the typical flowers for a man asking someone out on a date, to cheer up someone, to say ‘Hey, you are special, you know?’ I created this story of him finding a woman who was strong, independent and beautiful. That’s why he put this effort in his flowers, he wanted to say, ‘I respect you and I admire you for what you are’… Sometime later, he stopped.”

 

[ _blinking and taking a breath_ ]

 

“I lost his flowers and letters, but one day he came back. He was… different, even more happy if I can say that. And his flowers changed with him. No more bouquets but a single rose, or a single lily. I remember one Christmas Day very well, I don’t know why I opened my store when it was snowing and during the holidays, maybe because I felt lonely and my flowers always keep me distracted from the depression… anyway, the point was that Steve Rogers showed up in my place, in his winter coat and everything, looking for a special flower that wouldn’t die like the others.

‘Well, actually something like what you’re asking for recently arrived,’ I said and hurried into the back to get this box where I had a Christmas Flower with its red petals and golden stem. Now, that wasn’t a real flower, it was made of metal, titanium. To be completely honest, I received this flower as a trophy for being one of the best florists in a course that I took before Christmas. He smiled like a child with big blue eyes and carefully took the flower between his big hands. You might suppose that I was making up stories again and you’d be right. I imagined that he wanted to say something very very important to his lover, something like ‘I care about you because I love you,’ and for an everlasting love, an everlasting flower. What could be more resistant than this red and gold metal?... I gave it to him, you know, as a gift for Christmas.

‘Thank you so much, you don’t know how perfect this flower is for us,’ Steve Rogers said and returned to his home with the box under his arm and whistling some merry Irish song. I know Irish… and I understood that I was a flower girl, perfectly normal and with a chance to be happy if I searched for it. And I did it. Now I am married to a writer who adores my stories.”

 

 

_The Secretary._

 

“Mr. Stark drank a lot.

Sometimes I jumped out of my skin when he smashed a bottle against the wall, without noticing me. I was a ghost, all the time. Other times he shouted harsh words to himself in front a mirror that he put in his office and I cleaned every day. The Arc Reactor hurt him but he couldn’t get rid of it, it was his curse as I have my own as a bad luck child. Mr. Stark was a brilliant man, a handsome one but he was… lonely? Lost? As if Vietnam tore something inside him. And the company problems didn't help very much. Accidents, the press always trying to write a nasty tale about him. Sometimes I only stared at him in silence, hugging my papers or the tray with coffee, but I never found the courage to say something. What could I say?

Colonel Rhodes visited him frequently, scolded him like a stubborn child that he was. Sometimes Mrs. Potts oversaw Mr. Stark when he got angry. I am not allowed to say this but… but… there were a few times when I caught him in his suit… you know… the Ironman. It gave me the idea that he was happier inside that thing than being the billionaire playboy of the magazines and news that I read on the mornings in my apartment, drinking a cup of the same coffee that he liked. I stole a little of the coffee, not for the price but for the feeling of sharing something in common. The coffee always reminds me Mr. Stark and his goatee, his laughs and those sad blue eyes.

 

[ _silence_ ]

 

“One day, he started to talk about someone… the hero… Captain America, and his face changed completely. Well, not all the time, some serious words against the Captain reached my ears a lot of times, but these words were very different from the ones that Mr. Stark said to the military and hateful people like Mr. Stone. Maybe it was another thing, I am not sure. At least he ordered the company to stop making weapons… but he still was drinking and yelling to no one, tossing away the mask and running to pick it up, talking to the armor as it was a living thing. I thought he lost his mind, coworkers whispered in the corridors about the fact that he was distant and doing strange things. Many of them truly worried for their jobs.

I didn’t. Mr. Stark was many things but never a cruel man that would allow his people to get hurt or lose their jobs because of him. He used his Ironman suit to save workers and at the same time he flew off when the Captain called him. My father and the Sisters never stopped thinking the worst of him but I never quit my job. I believed in Mr. Stark.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Sex Worker._

 

[ _laughing_ ]

 

“Darling, darling, I told you. They were fantastic as a fairy tale… or bad as a cheap horror movie. You know? I like them very much, the Avengers, but I noticed quickly who wear the pants in that family of super sexy heroes. Since I have many talkative clients, the news about Mr. America and Mr. Metal came from them. If they saved the day fighting an army of robots from another country or if they fought against a new villain trying to make New York his. Mmm… okay, I confess, I bought some Avengers merchandising but everybody did it, okay? Maybe I stole a few? Give me a break, money doesn’t fall off the trees, honey.

Anyway, the point was that you must imagine this: I was in bed, lying as my sweet mom brought me into this world, deciding if I should shower or if I should smoke a cigarette, when my eyes caught a strange movement, like something flying right in front of the hotel I was in. You know? When you live in this Avengers’ New York and see something odd the first thought hitting your mind is ‘We have an adventure!’. I forgot that I was naked and run to the window only to see these gorgeous men, Mr. America and Mr. Metal in the air, talking to somebody on the roof. They looked so happy and content but I am a very perceptive person, even if I don’t seem to be. Mr. Metal had his arm hugging tightly Mr. America’s waist… yes… oh, yes… like that. I wasn’t born yesterday, sugar. THAT means a very important thing.

 

[ _chuckling_ ]

 

The sad thing is I didn't have anything to take a picture with, I could be a millionaire if I had taken that shot from my window. My photograph on the front page of The New York Times: ‘Superhusbands flying together and happy’… but I was a fool as usual and the only proof I have is this memory of mine that nobody is gonna believe. If you were me, I wouldn’t believe you either. Come on, what are the chances of catching Mr. America and Mr. Metal being so close and confident with each other like a pair of super daddies scolding their super children about a super mission? … I don’t know. And I got jealous too, of that happiness. But don’t think I was praying for something bad to happen to them to satisfied my greed, no, no, no, Jesus Christ no. I would die if something hurt my babies, because since that day, I called them my babies and I will cut any throat to protect them too.

What? Why are you looking me like that?”

 

 

 

 

 

_Sixth Interview: The Teenager._

 

“Um… is this private? I mean, I don’t want the kids at school laughing at me…

Okay, I understand.

Hmm… my uncle Jim used to write poems to my mom because she was very sick when she was little. My family, the family, named him the Poe of the Family. I feel that it was more like mocking than flattery but my uncle didn’t protest…. So, I suppose that I got the gene from him… this thing of writing fictional stories. Well… hehehehe, I am not good enough to create poems like uncle Jim, but writing situations about these heroes is maybe my jam… because… um… YOLO?”

 

[ _breathing deeply_ ]

 

“I am a nerd, and I know what the price is for that. But… um… I heard some tales on the school bus about youths applying to be part of the Stark Research Program - _#BeStarkie-_ and everything … and I thought why not? I mean, I am not pretty and I don’t have a perfect body like Christie and her stupid… okay, okay… One day I told my mum my intention of being a Stark intern, she spoke with Dad and he talked with my brothers and finally everybody sat me on the couch and gave me this half and an hour of lecture about my stupid idea because the family needed hard workers not nerds… and I-I... cried maybe a lot because my big brother found my form application and ripped it apart in front of my eyes and…”

 

[ _long silence, sniffling_ ]

 

“That’s why I write fanfictions and put a false name on them. I write about Tony Stark and his armors, how he made a new one, more powerful and with guns to fight even the most powerful sorcerers in the universe. Some things were true. Maybe a little exaggerated but true because I learned to look up into the sky when his repulsors blasted, every single time that I caught the sound, I ran to look up and watch him fly. My favorite story was when he created the bumblebee armor, it reminds me of the great conquerors of history… um… like… Alexander The Great or Napoleon or… Genghis Khan. I know, I know maybe you know… it sounds like Hades from Disney, right? Hehehehe. Sorry.

Sometimes I wished that he were gay… like me… I never write my Tony Stark being gay… fear, you see? What if my parents found it like they found my application form and erased everything? I couldn’t live anymore… he is my favorite hero. Even when my father is dead drunk or my mom sleeps too much I have this inner strength thanks to the Tony Stark of my fanfiction.”

  
 

 

 

 

* * *

**THIRD PART**

**_“It wasn’t worth it”_ **

 

 

 

_The Antique Seller_

 

“Yes, yes, of course I met Steve Rogers. Sometime after I sold my wife’s collection, he came to my shop asking me about stuff from WWII, and of course I had it! The issue was the antiques’ location because the Smithsonian tried to sue me because I won in the auction one day and their stupid curator didn’t have the skills to make a good offer. To say that I hid my war collection isn’t a lie but neither is it the complete truth. Anyway, Steve Rogers and I took my car and went to Philadelphia where this stuff was hidden, a long trip if you ask me but he insisted on traveling this way. Since he noticed my good knowledge about WWII we talked and talked about the USO girls, the pin-ups, the rain on the battlefields or the horrible sight of a broken Europe.

He could speak many languages, to my surprise, as well understand the signs and slang of the 40’s. Um… it made the trip shorter than I expected. We reached my store and for the first time in many years I had the pleasure of seeing someone really enchanted with these things. Oh… uh… he was looking for this group, the Howling Commandos. What a nice piece of luck that I had three or four things, but his attention was on a picture of a teenager. I asked him if the kid was his relative but he didn’t answer. His hands were trembling and, um, am, maybe he whispered some confused words to me: ‘He was like a son to me’… ‘What they did to you?’ His eyes also got weary and sad. I froze.

‘Did you have something from the Russians?’ He suddenly asked me and I jumped, honestly. ‘The Russians?’ I was confused. ‘Hydra Russians’… holy sh… now, I didn’t have nothing but one of my friends met a guy who met a guy and you don’t ask… We left the store and returned to New York. Mr. Rogers bought everything and put the address for the moving service. The only thing he brought with him was the picture of the boy with the soldiers, smiling and making this salute with a helmet bigger than his head. ‘What you would do if a loved one appeared out of nowhere after long years of being missing?’ was the question he asked me on the trip back. ‘Hug him?’ I answered very dumbly because I didn’t know was happening. ‘I wish I could,’ Steve Rogers whispered, holding his precious photograph between his hands all the way.”

 

[ _smiling very shyly_ ]

 

“After that, I lost sight of him for a while but then I started to hear something about an assassin searching for Captain America and the name Hydra was said in the middle. With all my heart, I prayed that this event wasn’t linked with Steve Rogers and the kid in the picture. It could be a disaster.”

 

 

 

 

 

_Seventh Interview: The Policewoman._

 

“It’s hard to talk about this when you still have too many emotions involved. I admired them. They were for me a glimpse of the kind of world that you dream about once you are here, in the police service. But in a blink, everything changed and I didn’t know what was right and what was wrong anymore because the line was too thin to figure out. I got this bad feeling when the school exploded, from then, I knew everything was about to twist more than once. I wished that I would be wrong. As a police officer, a member of the justice system, I could say ‘You have to respect the law and obey’ but it is like asking the world to be white or black, nothing more. That’s a lie because you never would be a chessboard, it’s more like a tiger with grey stripes.

Of course, it was a war, a horrible one with your heroes trying to rip each other’s heads off, chasing each other like the worst criminals, friends, families destroyed in the fight for an act with a double edge like a sword. I read a copy of the document, I read the news of the battles everywhere, and the villains taking this opportunity to do more damage and no one was noticing it but a few, but not my heroes, Captain America and Iron Man, the heads of each side. Some days, after my shift ended, I cried on the floor, covering my face with my arms because I couldn’t bear it anymore. They were enemies, they tried to kill each other, instead of fighting together and protecting the world from the real danger, not for a stupid law.

My worst day was that… the one when our chief called us because the Cap and Mr. Stark were fighting in front of this Baxter Building and… God…”

 

[ _staring at the floor_ ]

 

“The blood, the… Jesus… Holy Mary… I fought back my tears because we had to put Captain America inside the patrol car and control the press, f… dam… I’m sorry….”

 

[ _sniffling_ ]

 

 

“Iron Man… Mr. Stark rose against all odds and shouted at Cap, the hate in their eyes was too much. I couldn’t cope. I cried while I was making space between them. My uniform was covered in their blood and with tears running down my face I took the wheel to drive away with Cap, looking back through the mirror to see Mr. Stark still thrashing and paramedics trying to calm him down. A living hell.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Florist._

“… well… it is hard to assimilate when suddenly one of your best customers is none other than Captain America. Transforms everything you remember of him. And my heart broke into thousand pieces again at the memory of the funeral. All his favorite flowers were sent to him. I collected them one by one to make sure that in Heaven he will be pleased to see these gifts in his last walk to the final rest. I even travelled to another state to get only the best, because I always keep his tickets in my desk so I knew very well which he bought from me.

His laughs, his smiles, his words… side by side with his battles, that awful war between him and Mr. Stark… my husband told me ‘Honey, you should rest, think of the baby.’ I was pregnant with my first born at the time. But I couldn’t. He makes me a better person, with his appearances in my store as well as with his work as Captain America. This whole time I always had the Cap buying my flowers to make him happy, to make some else happy for him. Now my flowers were to cover his coffin, to say goodbye forever. Pray that the Lord and his angels received him in Heaven.

 

[ _smiling, breath slowly_ ]

 

I am not going to lie, when I was finishing the last bouquet, I saw Mr. Stark far away and I got crazy. I know, I know it is not the kind of behavior for a lady but my anger, the hate and more important, the hurt for Cap was too much and I saw red. I shouldn’t have throw the flowers at him, I apologize for that. I shouldn’t have shouted at him either. I said horrible things and I regret it. Surely Captain America would be embarrassed, his favorite florist thrashing and kicking the agents and police like a spoiled kid just because she was so lost in her feelings that she didn’t think what she was doing. I was lucky not to end up in jail, but Mr. Stark never said anything to the police. 

You want to know what he did? He asked me not about my anger but instead if I was the person who had been selling flowers to Cap all this time, the flowers Cap always showed him… wait… maybe he said, ‘brought me,’ I am not sure. I was in shock at the question and I needed a nudge from my husband to get back to reality. ‘Yes, I am the florist who sold Captain his favorite flowers.’ He only nodded and turn to leave, telling the agents to leave me in peace. Of course, a policeman suggested that I walk away before anything more happened and my husband helped me to pick up the flowers from the floor. There, I noticed that the rose that I choose to put between other kind of flowers was missing. I raised my head because I had this hunch, and I was right. Mr. Stark was leaving with a trembling hand putting the rose inside the pocket of his black suit.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Secretary._

 

“Suffering is something that is the same no matter the skin color or the money. We always have this hurt in the same way. Mr. Stark was no exception.

I… I was weak. After the funeral and the press conference, the silence and the whisky were constants in his life. He scared away everybody, shut down his phones and cut off all contact. You maybe are thinking how I could get in there… Mrs. Potts gave me a master key, to make my job easier and not to disturb Mr. Stark if I got stuck in his workshop or in his office for whatever reason. It happened a lot of times, enough to earn that master key and… so… I continued bringing to him a tray of food and his favorite coffee in his favorite cat mug but the day after the tray was in the same spot untouched.

One day, I was trying to clean a little and I thought that I was alone but Mr. Stark was there, lying on the big sofa in his office. He was so drunk that he didn’t notice when I jumped and shouted from surprise, turning around to see him pouring the last drop of whisky into his mouth until the bottle fell and crashed on the carpet. Usually I ran away without saying anything but that day was different… I just couldn’t leave him like that. My feet started to walk towards him, my hands touched him for the very first time. His hair, all messy and wet. His clothes, ruined by the alcohol and the tears. His hands were shaking as his lips, whispering something, ‘…was all my fault… what’ve I done?... I am a monster… I didn’t deserve him…’ and things like that, I am not sure of what exactly he said, Mr. Stark was crying in a way that broke my own heart.

I took a towel and cleaned his face, his hands and searched for a blanket to put on him. I was in shock, with fear. What if he tried to take his life? Or something like that? I think I sang him a lullaby that I remembered from the orphanage but his tears multiplied as did his whispering. He didn’t recognize me, I am sure, he was lost in a figure that he buried far away in the ice, a man who stole his heart and his happiness with his death. I cried with him because I couldn’t do any good, I am not a god or a kind of supreme being who can bring beloved ones back from death. The fair truth is that I am nothing, my hands only could clean his face again and lyingly promise him that everything would be alright the next day.”

 

[ _silence… crying_ ]

 

“Yes, the next morning I quit my job in Stark Industries. Deep inside of me I knew that part of this tragedy was my fault. I was born as a bad luck child. My bad luck goes through Mr. Stark and I am very very sorry for that. He didn’t deserve it. He made mistakes but he didn’t deserve to lose the love of his life and no one could convince me otherwise. I am a bad luck child.”

  
 

 

 

 

* * *

**FOURTH PART**

**“I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing next to you”**

 

 

 

 

 

_The Teenager_

 

[ _growling_ ]

 

“Of course, I didn’t let him down! What the hell are you thinking? He was my hero for my whole life! What kind of fan I would be if I turned my back on Mr. Stark just because he made this huge mistake? I know everything back then sucked badly but it’s not about people being perfect all the time, even the most perfect machine can make mistakes once for a while, you know? And with the background of Iron Man… okay, it’s difficult but not impossible. You learn to love him once you know him. In fact, that time was my most prolific time writing fanfiction because I had this little hope that if he maybe surfed the web and found my fanfics… maybe he could see that not everybody hated him. Just like that.

My family… well, certainly I was disappointed in them. They said awful things and later at breakfast they made these hurtful jokes, you understand? I only remained in silence, looking down my cereal and wishing Captain America could come back to life to kick their stupid asses. As I said before, at that time I wrote a lot and one day in school my literature teacher asked us for an essay about being a true hero. I took one of my stories and changed it enough to make it a school essay. Until I was in front of the class and I realized that it was a big mistake, I was about to let my class to know of my admiration for Mr. Stark and his Iron Man as a hero without magic powers or anything. I trembled, yes, like a jellybean. My teacher smiled and cheered me up to continue.

As you can imagine, everybody laughed at me and threw paper balls at me when I finished. I could have cried but my teacher put a note into my hand and later, when the day’s class had ended, he called me to the principal’s office. Oh, yes, I thought the same as you now. I was in trouble for putting a man like Mr. Stark on the same level as Perseus or Robinson Crusoe. But no. My teacher wanted to add me to a writing contest, a big one, so he asked the principal for his approval. Holy unicorns! Yes! I signed almost without reading the form and later, when the two of us walked out of the office, my literature teacher asked me how I trained to write like this. He looked at me and smiled, ‘You write fanfiction, don’t you?’ I nodded like an idiot, feeling my cheeks burning.

Um… my family got mad when they found out I won the prize… the nerd thing, you know? But the state gave me a scholarship to continue my studies until university, so this time I fought back against my family in the same way Ironman did when no one wanted to work or fight with him. And when Captain America defeated death and returned as the fighter he was, making peace with Ironman and being happy together again… I only look back at all the people who swore it was the end of the Avengers and the heroic age with my middle fingers in the air. Sorry not sorry.

You can’t judge a person only for his mistakes.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Policewoman._

 

“I quit my job at the police station in order to move on - I wanted something with fewer memories. It hurt when I was driving through the streets to remember those times when they were fighting and laughing together. But also, I wanted to continue serving the community, so I applied to be a prison guard… and yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best of ideas but the pay was good enough to shut down any doubt. Since I was a good cop and my former boss wrote a beautiful recommendation letter, I could get work in this well-known jail. Now, the days passed so quietly and peacefully that I started to get bored… yes, I was!

 

[ _laughing_ ]

 

God in Heaven knows me better. I was praying for action and I got it. The day of the famous Prison Break I was on my shift. In fact, I was eating a delicious pretzel with my feet on the dinner table and a newspaper in my hands when the alarm sounded. I kicked the table, sending all the coffees cups of my partners flying and jumping up to grab my guns, shouting orders to the trembling newbies and running like a crazy woman to the cells. Mmm… it’s fair to say that I loved the feeling of adrenaline running through my veins again while everybody was trying to understand what in the name of Baby Jesus had happened, it was as fast as I remember in the old days.

Far in the distance… I found them and I almost dropped my gun. Yes, yes, everybody was speaking about the return of Captain America and the new Avengers and so… but when I saw them, together again, I felt this joy, this power in my heart telling me that I could do better. And yes, oh my Sweet Lord, I screamed… hehehe, but don’t misunderstand me, I screamed because I was truly happy to see them. My Avengers. My powerful couple together again. Have you ever played at this strange game where you lost a piece of your life and then something gives it back to you? All the tears, all the depression and the grey days were gone when I looked at my Avengers in the distance. I knew then that my best days still were waiting for me.

Holy Mary, I lost my job but it was ok, didn’t matter, I feel powerful, even beautiful and with the guts to wake up one morning, put on my old uniform and ask my former captain for a new opportunity. He laughed like a maniac and then shut down in the same way, getting serious, ‘You will have to start from the very beginning, as a rookie, earn the shield again.’ This ‘shield’ was what we called our badges in the station, like the shield of Captain America. I started over again, but this time I had the sight I missed for so many years, the growling of the canons blasting in the air from shellhead, the figure in blue, white and red running with his winghead. Night shifts, morning shifts… didn’t matter. My streets were full of my gorgeous marvel couple. And by the way, I applied for the FBI internship and guess what? I was accepted.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Secretary._

 

“I found this homecraft job, the pay was an insult but it let me stay in my apartment. How long was I like that? For me, it was an eternity. My father and the Sisters stopped talking to me or paying visits. They were embarrassed of me. I didn’t care because I thought they were right.

It was an absolutely surprise to me when one day I found this AI in the middle of my little living room, scanning the space with his pink form. I was used to working with J.A.R.V.I.S, so in the first moment I did not scream or drop my bags, until I woke up from my astonishment. F.R.I.D.A.Y., was the name. Mr. Stark was looking for me, Tony Stark, Iron Man, the Avenger, was looking for me. He remembered me very well as if I had been Mrs. Potts or Mrs. Watson or Mr. Hogan. The AI told me that he named me The Girl With Sad Eyes or TGWSE for quick… I think I passed out.

 

[ _snorting_ ]

 

Friday didn’t quit until she found me because I’ve changed my name and my address, since nobody cared about it, and it must have been difficult for her to find me. Mr. Stark wanted me back because he missed me even though he never said a word or gave a sign that he was aware of my presence in all those years working for him. ‘No one makes the coffee like you do,’ his message said, it was a joke of course. I knew that very well and got mad thinking it was an insult. ‘Oh, and you definitely are not a bad luck child,’ he said at last. I cried then with all the shame on my shoulders. He knew me and never stopped searching for me. I didn’t deserve this kind of generosity but Friday insisted and insisted until I accepted the job again.”

 

[ _silence_ ]

 

“He is not a perfect man, he made a lot of mistakes and many of them are the same sometimes, but Mr. Stark is capable of apologizing and amending for them. He learned from his past and put all his efforts and faith in the future. Not his future but the world’s future, the same world that spit on him when an idiot convinced the people to do it. And he loved with the force of thousand hurricanes in Jupiter, I can assure you of that. His love is so strong that he will fight his own lover to rescue him from his own self, even if it meant his death, because if there’s one thing that Tony Stark, Iron Man, knows, it’s that the value of the lost and the pain, he knows what it means to be a monster for everybody and the treasure of one. He forgives and fights always with his heart, broken, weak, but full of true love. That love that teaches us how to be better. And it’s an honor to me, working for him. Being his Girl With Sad Eyes, in silence… and happy.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Sex Worker._

 

“All couples fight, all couples have those moments of doubt and maybe they have a little affair somewhere just because they wanted to get their partner mad, is a way to say, ‘You moron, look at me, I’m dying here for you.’… yes, sweetie, it’s not the right way but remember that all the human beings since the first one walking on this planet until the last in the distant future are made of stars… wait, that’s not the line I was looking for… give me five seconds…”

 

[ _chewing_ ]

 

“Oh! Now I’ve got it.

We are not perfect and I am pretty sure that we are not truly sure of what we want all the fuc… time. And right there, you can find the beauty of us. I learned it from Mr. America and Mr. Metal with their precious story that now I am telling you in front of that very expensive tape recorder of yours. I can assure you that maybe not all the younger ones are inspired by them but they were leaving these bread crumbs to those who wished would walk the path of the heroes. Now that I am not so young and beautiful as in the past, I have more time to watch the people, especially the teenagers when I walk in the suburbs. One day I found Mr. Metal with a girl like a… how to say it? A mother giving advice to her daughter. That was pretty nice.

I saw brave little boys fighting bullies in the same way that Steve Rogers once did back there in his old Brooklyn. They know very well about the force in your heart and not in your muscles or your money. I work for money and can say this: the money only serves to buy things that help you to do things and nothing more. If you have a lot of money but that money doesn’t help you to make yourself better, then it is only printed paper that time will erase along with your name. Mr. Metal taught me that too. You can be like me, selling your battered body for a few dollars which help to maintain a shelter for stray cats, or be a rich moron who wastes their money on stupid awful suits or drug parties with the only aim of taking up oxygen from the other living species on Earth.”

 

[ _humming_ ]

 

“Maaaaybe Mr. America is a little strange right now, but with all the things we have gone through… I think Mr. Metal is going to fix him. It’s like a ping pong tournament. Mr. America saves Mr. Metal, Mr. Metal saves Mr. America. They are husbands. My Stony… why Stony? For many things, honey bee. Because they are strong, because they have their foundations and because they are my Steve and Tony forever. Cross my heart.”

 

 

 

 

 

_The Coffee Shop Owner_

 

“It’s like… am… don’t know… the Aleph? You have heard about it?... this point of view where you can see everything in every single time and space like a kind of omni god or something… you feel how the universe speaks to you, inside of you, shaking your atoms one by one… that’s how I felt after Captain America told me that.

Many things can happen due to the wrong words, I thought at that moment. My grandfather was alive thanks to Cap, and he lived in the way a man who fought among the Howling Commandos and Captain America should live. He told me these stories to make me a better man and now I was having the same brave man asking me for something that he didn’t know what is was. I noticed his loneliness, the lost look in his eyes and maybe a little despair… because he needed to hear the words that can make the world turn again and I was the only human in front of him to do it. Yes, maybe I was giving myself too much importance but you can see it, right?

Now, you must understand this because it is vital. If I mentioned the Aleph is because is true, in fact, my coffee shop is not quite a regular place, all of us have secrets and I am not the only exception. Forgive me please, I never thought that I would have Steven Grant Rogers in front of my shop, lost and shattered, but nothing bad is going to happen. You have to resist. I promised him that everything was going to be okay, because if someone can return the world in its earlier form, it is truly Captain America. And yes, I knew what to say and told him with a smile of reassurance. He smiled back and nodded, turning to the urban jungle I pointed to with the promise of seeing his home again. You probably are wondering now what in the hell is happening…?”

 

[ _chuckling_ ]

 

“As I said, nothing bad, I am a merely coffee shop owner with a regular life watching the people come and go every day. If I have luck, a hero comes to my place looking for answers.

 

You want to know why?

 

Because sometimes, the extraordinary people need the common people.”

 

 

**END.**


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